Do I know you?
by RebeccaFoxx
Summary: Rose Tyler is having an awful day. An absolutely terrible day, in fact. When a man dressed in black starts to follow her home, Rose's day takes a turn, though not in the way she was expecting...
1. Chapter 1

Rain pelted down on the unsuspecting Londoners who happened to be walking below, each drop heavy enough to be considered a water balloon.

Rose Tyler was one of the unfortunate few who happened to be out in the storm. Her blonde hair hung in shambles across her face, sweater pulled over her head to try and keep some of the water off of her. It was soaked through and her small frame trembled.

She cursed softly under her breath. Of bloody course, she had picked the day of a rainstorm to leave her umbrella at home.

She never would've noticed him if he hadn't tripped. She lifted her gaze to connect with the eyes of a stranger across the street, his green eyes burning into her brown. He was quick to look away and busy himself with trying to dry off.

She couldn't help but feel bad for the bloke in the black raincoat.

 _Luck was on nobody's side today..._

She thought as she quickened her pace. He was the least of her problems.

Or so she thought.

It was the fact that six blocks later, he was still there.

She quickened her step, trying not to make it too obvious that she was trying to get away from him. Her mind raced, every piece of advice from her Mother playing on repeat as she struggled to stay calm.

It had to be some coincidence, right?

Taking another random turn, her heart sank to her shoes as he turned after her.

 _Crap._

He'd been following her for about eight blocks now and showed no signs of stopping. She couldn't make out any distinguishing features through the downpour, buckets of rain chilling her to the bone, blonde hair completely soaked.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she hastily picked it up, not even looking at the name. Anything to distract her from her stalker.

"Hello?"

"Hey!" She calmed at the sound of Clara's voice, pressing the phone closer to her ear.

"I was just calling to tell you I can't meet up tonight, Danny and I-"

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine." She fought to keep a nervous quiver out of her voice. Clara, much to her dismay, picked up on her unease.

"Is everything alright?" She questioned.

"I think I'm being followed." The line was quiet for a moment, then-

"Are you sure?"

"I think I'd know if it was just paranoia." She growled into the mouthpiece.

"Okay," Her friend sounded like she was trying to stay calm, not helping Rose's nerves. "Where are you?" Rose squinted through the falling water to try and see a street name.

"Dunno, can't make it out." Clara sighed in exasperation. Rose bit back a snippy remark. Now wasn't the time to try and be clever.

"What do they look like?" She risked a glance behind her.

"Kind of, tall? Definitely a guy." After a moment of hesitation, she added, "Wearing a black raincoat." She tried not to make eye contact.

"Okay, you should find someone. He'll probably bugger off if he sees you with someone." She looked up the street.

An empty street stared back.

"Nobody's here!" She hissed. She pulled her sweater's hood tighter over her head, tugged the zipper up to her chin, trying to keep her worry at bay. A tight knot of fear formed in her gut as the mystery man crossed to her side of the street. "He just crossed the street!" Her voice was reaching an unusual pitch as fear gripped her.

"Okay, stay calm!" Clara instructed, now in full school teacher mode. "You have to find someone."

"Clara I'm alo-" She stopped mid-sentence as a tall man stepped out from a shop not far up the street. "Scratch that."

"Found someone?" The man turned his back to her, brown coat quickly becoming drenched as he hightailed it up the street.

"Yeah. I'll call you back, promise." With that, she ended the call, hastily starting to walk in his direction, rain dripping down her face and blotting on her eyelashes. She didn't know who he was. To be honest, she didn't care.

She was just a few feet from him now, making a mental note of just how tall he really was compared to her. And his hair.

 _Really, really great hair..._

She closed the gap between them with a few quick strides and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He stiffened, a surprised 'What?' escaping from his lips. She stood on tip toes to reach his ear.

"I'm really sorry, I think I'm being followed and need you to pretend to know me." The words tumbled out of her mouth in a nervous rush. She pulled away from him quickly, but to her surprise, he wrapped his lanky, pinstripe clad arm around her.

"You're shaking." He observed. She flushed in embarrassment, trying to tear her eyes away from his - quite frankly - gorgeous face. His freckled features painted the very picture of concern, dark brown eyes searching hers for answers, hair adorably wild from the rain. "Are you cold?"

She pulled on the drawstrings of her hoodie. "I'm fine." His arm suddenly left her shoulder and her heart sank.

 _Don't leave!_

She yelped in surprise as something warm and dry was draped over her shoulders. "Here." His voice was gentle, clearly worried for her. She adjusted the caramel coat on her shoulders. It was much too big for her and the end dragged on the ground. She winced as it was pulled through a puddle.

"Sorry 'bout your coat..." She mumbled, dipping her head slightly as the relentless storm pounded down on the pair of them. He smiled softly.

"Don't mention it." He turned his head and gave a quick glance back down the street. "Guy in the black?" She nodded wordlessly. Before she could react, he pulled her closer to his side protectively.

"Is he-"

"Still here." He finished for her, voice coming out as a low growl. She hardly noticed his change in tone, leaning closer to him and just enjoying his warmth. "Anyway, I don't believe we've really met. Properly, I mean."

"No, don't suppose we have." Her heart skipped a beat when he shot her a lopsided grin.

"I'm John, John Smith."

"Rose Tyler." She examined her soaked flats and his cream converse, feeling a tingle of warmth in her chest.

You dolt, he's only saying hello...

A goofy smile stretched across her face as rain poured down. His arm slipped from her shoulder, and she almost protested until his hand found hers, giving it a comforting squeeze. Their joined hands swung between them in an oddly natural fashion that made her insides form a knot of attraction.

She tried to clear her head. After all, he was only helping her get rid of a creepy stalker, and here she was acting like a smitten schoolgirl. A blush crept onto her cheeks as she mentally slapped herself.

 _He's probably not into you._

 _Just being nice, that's all._

She found herself wishing that wasn't true.

"So, John, what's your story?" He launched into a long-winded explanation about a degree in astrophysics. Mostly scientific mumbo-jumbo to her, but she didn't stop him, loving how he gestured wildly with his free hand, how his eyes danced in spite of the weather, how his grip would tighten when he needed her attention.

She found herself dreading the sight of her own flat, a sight that she had been praying for moments before John had stumbled into her life. He seemed to notice her hesitance.

"You alright?" She nodded, flashing him a dazzling smile as she tried to convince him that everything was fine. He turned his head slightly and glared down the street. "Oh for the love of-" Rose turned to try and see what had caused the change in expression.

The man was still tailing behind her, stopping every now and again to pretend to look at something, making sure not to lose the pair. John tensed beside her, throwing his arm back around her. She crashed against his side, nervousness flooding off her in waves.

She hoped it wasn't too obvious.

She wondered which of the men was adding to that fact.

"D'ya want me to walk you home?" He asked, almost timidly.

"I don't want him to know where I live." She admitted. He squeezed her shoulder.

"Okay. He won't." John gently started to guide her down the winding streets, rambling absently about this and that, filling the air with the sound of his own voice. Rose found herself coming to realize that she didn't mind.

She didn't resist as he continued pulling her along, still trying to get over the fact that the bloke in the black was still bloody there. He suddenly veered off down an alleyway, urging her to follow with a dorky smile. She hesitated.

"John," She started. His smile faded a little, but he didn't interrupt. "Look, it's nothing on you. You're amazing for wanting to help me, but I don't want to take any more of your day than I already have." He had just opened his mouth to say something when his eyes flashed with alarm.

"Rose, look out!" That was the last thing she heard before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm really sorry for the existence of this story. This is what happens when I try and write some innocent fluff. *Sigh* Anyway, updates won't normally be this fast, but I've had a lot of spare time recently, so I spent it working on this! (AKA procrastinating) Enjoy the story!**

* * *

It was amazing how everything could seem perfectly fine one moment, and go horrifyingly wrong in a matter of seconds. John had just been trying to work up enough courage to ask for her number, because, quite frankly, she was someone he wanted to meet again when she stopped.

He turned to face her with a smile that probably made him look like a complete dork, about to explain that really, it was no trouble to act as a bodyguard for someone like her when something standing in the shadows behind her made his blood run cold.

He shouted a warning, her terrified eyes an image he wouldn't forget as she slumped to the concrete in a heap. Water dripped across his face, obscuring his dark eyes from whoever had _dared_ lay a hand on Rose.

He clenched his fists, red tinting his vision. His voice was dangerously soft when he addressed the man in black.

"Let her go and nobody gets hurt." He snarled. The man locked eyes with him.

"What are you going to do?" He taunted. Something silver glinted in the hands of her assailant. His heart dropped. The man brandished the crowbar over his head. "Tell you what. I'm going to let you go if you walk out and pretend you didn't see anything." John clenched his teeth.

"I can't do that." The man shrugged.

"Suit yourself." John raised his fists, rage powering his actions. A growl rose in his throat. That's when he noticed another thing. Two other men stepped out from the shadowy haze, both dressed in black.

"Let her go, I'm warning you!" He tried to sound braver than he felt. Something suddenly jabbed into his ribs from behind. He yelped in shock, fingers brushing against a metal object protruding from his back.

His vision blurred, limbs becoming heavier and heavier. One thought surfaced in his mind as he collapsed to the ground.

 _Tranquillizer Dart._

He tried to grip the brick walls beside him, anything to stop him from falling, but his fingers didn't seem to want to work. His eyelids felt like lead, and it would be so easy to let them slide closed.

He was so tired.

 _So tired._

His arms grew limp and air left his lungs, heart rate slowing back to a normal pace as he slipped into the realm of unconsciousness.

* * *

White.

Everything was white.

John blinked slowly, pupils dilating as light flooded into his eyes.

 _Where-_

He tried in vain to recall where he was, his soaked body lying on what seemed to be a metal surface, head feeling as though it was burning up. He groaned softly.

He knew he wasn't going to learn anything by just lying there. Cautiously, he tried to swing his legs over the edge of what he now had figured out was an operating table, but was stopped short.

His drug-addled brain couldn't quite work out the problem until common sense kicked in.

 _Tied up._

Heavy chains bound his wrists and legs to the table, rattling against his attempts to break free, his efforts proving futile. He turned his head to the side to take in his surroundings, sunspots dancing across his vision. The walls were bare and white, a single spotlight shining on his face, flickering every now and then.

He groggily tried to clear his head, cursing his memory for taking a vacation without him knowing. He closed his eyes, searching his mind for something, anything, any hint as to where he was, when-

 _ **Rose.**_

Memories flooded through his head. A brilliant smile, a gorgeous blonde... He had just left yet another corner store without buying anything when she had grabbed his shoulder, warning him about-

 _ **Her stalker.**_

His heart rate increased heavily as he recalled the sickening thud of her body hitting the cold concrete. Remembering the sight of a dart protruding from his back. A noise caught his attention.

He stiffened, tensing up under his restraints as he waited for the heavyset metal door to swing open and reveal the man in black, ready to murder him horribly when he realized what the sound was.

It was quite muffled, but he was fairly certain there was someone sobbing on the other side of the wall. He felt sick to his stomach, wondering just how many people were trapped in this hellhole.

 _How many people had been abducted?_

He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, not wanting to call out to whoever it was just yet, fearing that the owner of the voice was being tortured. He hated to admit how scared he was of the very distinct possibility that he could be next.

His frown deepened as he listened. It sounded distinctly feminine, tapering off for a few seconds before becoming harder and louder.

"You alright?" He asked hesitantly. It stopped, then-

"John?"

 _Rose._

"Yeah, it's me."

"I- I'm-" Her voice broke. "I'm so sorry I dragged you into this." She choked out. He wanted nothing more than to free himself and go find her, surround her in his arms even though she was a complete stranger.

"It wasn't your fault." He said gently. "It's nobody's fault."

"But it is!" She insisted, her breaths shaky. "It's entirely my bloody fault, and now we're both going to die in here!" Her sobs echoed in his ears.

"How would you know?" He tried to sound comforting, hoping that if he managed to keep himself together that it would provide some comfort to her.

"There's-" She hesitated. "There's a lot you don't know about me." She finally managed. "And now we're both in danger and it's all my fault." He hated that she blamed herself for something she couldn't control. He wished he could travel in time so he could go back and fix everything.

"That's okay."

"No, s'not." He sighed.

"You're not the only one who had this coming, believe me. I know." Fire flashed behind his eyes and a chill ran down his spine.

He blamed his sopping wet clothes.

"So, we're in this together, then?" He smiled even though she couldn't see it. Even though it was under horrible circumstances.

"Rose Tyler, I-" He was cut short by the door slamming open.

* * *

"John!?" Her panicked shout reached no one, echoing about in the room she was confined to. She paced the dingy brown floor, the creamy walls closing in on her. He didn't answer.

 _Please please please._

She tugged nervously at her hair, trying to peer through the vent his voice had come through. Cold metal stared back at her. She bit her lip, trying her best not to cry.

She wasn't going to cry again.

She tried to silence her sobbing, hoping against all hopes that she could overhear something of use, something to reassure herself that it wasn't about what she thought it was. That it wasn't her fault they were in this mess. A voice came through the vent, but she knew it didn't belong to the kind stranger.

"You're awake." It growled. She heard John grunt in what she assumed was pain.

"You could say that." He shot back. Something in the other room creaked.

"Now, John, I'm going to lay this out nice and simple for you, alright?" John didn't answer. "Alright," The voice continued, "You seem to be familiar with Rose Tyler. Tell me, what do you know of her involvement with Torchwood?"

Her heart dropped.

 _Damn it._

She sat next to the vent, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering as she eavesdropped. His coat was the only comfort she had.

"The agency?" God, he was so bloody innocent.

"That would be the one." Her stomach knotted in fear, her body shaking.

 _Get a grip, Tyler!_

She scolded herself.

"Not a thing." He responded confidently.

"Wrong answer."

Rose gripped the sleeves of his jacket tightly, squeezing her eyes shut tight and bracing herself for whatever happened next.

"I suppose we could test out a new... _Concoction_ on you..." It purred. "Seeming as the knowledge from Torchwood isn't something you're giving, we could try out some of these new alien substances..." Rose's breathing hitched.

She had seen the effects of a few on mice, ranging from extra limbs to excruciating pain. Only three had survived.

She was completely paralyzed by fear, unable to do anything but wait and hope.

"Last chance. Talk now." John's voice hiked up an octave.

"I promise, I don't know what you're talking about! I'm just John, just John Smith." There was a silence. Rose let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they'd believe him. Maybe he could at least save himself from whatever fate they had planned for her.

"Fine. Suit yourself."

Rose covered her ears as screams of agony echoed through her cell, John's shouts and pleas for it to stop filling her ears as she hugged herself tighter, burying her face into his jacket.

Each time she thought the screaming was over, his whimpers would echo before turning back into nearly inhuman shrieks as God knows what happened to him. The fact that she was completely powerless tormented her to no end as she tried to block out his cries.

"ROSE!" She froze in place.

"John!" Whimpers filled her ears. "Are you alright?"

"No. God, Rose, they've done something to my heart!" He moaned.

"W-What do you mean?" She pressed herself up against the vent, wanting nothing more than to be able to tell him it was okay. He groaned again.

"They- They pushed a needle through my breastplate." A loud gasp escaped him. "It feels like- like pushing. Someone just pushing, pushing my organs around, pushing my ribcage..." He trailed off, another yelp of pain causing Rose to ball up tighter.

"Painful?" She tried to force herself to stay calm.

"Very." He grunted. He suddenly inhaled sharply, crying out softly. She tightened her grip on the vent.

"John? John, what's wrong!?" There was a long silence. Her throat tightened, tears stinging at her eyes.

"My-My heartbeat." He finally managed to gasp. "There's two."

 _What?_

"What do you mean, 'two'?"

"I-I hear it." His breathing became faster. "Four pulses in my head. I've got two hearts." He laughed mirthlessly. "Guess I'm not as human as they thought." Rose felt hot tears start to roll down her cheeks. He cried out a few more times, his breathing loud and labored.

She listened in painful silence as his screams tapered off. "I'm just so tired..." He moaned.

She snapped to attention. "John, you CAN'T fall asleep!"

"Wh-Why?" He was slurring his words heavily now. Whatever it was might not be as harmless as she had hoped.

"Because, if you fall asleep-" She was finding it hard to talk past the lump in her throat. "If you fall asleep, you'll die." She croaked.

That's what had happened to all of the test subjects who survived past the initial pain. She waited for accusations to rain down on her, but whatever they had injected him with seemed to be interfering with his thought process.

"I-I don't want to do that!" He slurred. "But I'm just... so tired..." She choked back another sob.

"John, please! Just hold on!" She croaked. "This is all my fault!"

"Rose..." His voice was getting weaker. "Don't b-blame yourself, okay?" The last word came out as a wheeze. "Not your fault..." She buried her head in his jacket.

"I'm so sorry."

"There's nothing you need to be sorry for." He gasped.

"What is it?" She heard something shift in the other room.

"It- It still hurts, but- but less." Soft whimpers reached her ears for a few moments. "It's not pushing anymore..."

"It's not?" She let herself hang onto the hope that he might survive, gripping it like a lifeline. Even though he was a complete stranger, he was the only comfort she had in her unfamiliar surroundings, and she wasn't going to let him slip away.

"Yeah." Tension flooded out of her, giving way to a morbid curiosity.

"Is it still there?" She asked. "The extra heart?" He shuffled a bit.

"Yep." He affirmed, popping the 'P'. "Though, there are worse things that could've happened."

 _If only you knew the half of it..._

She forced those thoughts out of her head. The horrors of Torchwood weren't something she needed to focus on.

 _What if they had more of whatever they used on him?_

 _What if they had something worse?_

"I'm glad you're okay." She admitted, shakily standing to go back to pacing the room, finding the sound of her own footsteps oddly comforting. "I just wish we didn't have to meet like this."

"Yeah. If only."


	3. Chapter 3

**Back again! Sorry for the delay, it's getting pretty dark in this fic, and believe me when I say that it gets worse from here. Much worse. My updates, on a brighter note, should be more frequent! (yay) Anyway, I've kept you long enough.**

 **Happy (ish) reading!**

* * *

Amy tapped her foot impatiently on the carpeted floor of Martha's, dialing Rose's number for what had to be the billionth time that hour.

 _Hey, this is Rose Tyler! If you're selling, I'm not buying, and for the love of God, if any of you leave more drunk voicemails, there's going to be hell to pay. Leave a message if it's actually important!_

She growled in frustration. She practically had the damn voicemail message memorized by this point.

"Any luck?" Amy looked up from her phone with a deadpan expression on her face. Martha sighed heavily. "Going with no..." Amy stood up from her perch on the couch, pacing agitatedly across the length of the room, gesturing wildly with her hands as she spoke.

"I just don't get it!" She tugged on the ends of her ginger locks in frustration. "She's never bailed on our girl's nights before! Bill, back me up here!" Bill looked up as her name was called.

"Don't drag me into this." She protested, raising her hands in the air defensively. "Besides, she could be anywhere! Maybe something came up."

"Yeah... Maybe..." Martha didn't sound convinced, the worried undertone to her words clear for all to hear. "Has anyone checked with Jackie yet? Or Pete? Maybe Mickey knows something." She reasoned.

"Yeah, you've got a point," Amy mumbled. A frown tugged at her lips. "I'm just worried." Worried, in truth, didn't even begin to scratch the surface of the emotion she was feeling. A mix of dread and anxiety, perhaps.

"I know," Martha's voice was soft, "we all are." She flipped open her mobile in one fluid motion. "I'm calling Jackie."

"Put it on speaker!' Bill requested, resting her chin on her hands and leaning closer. Amy slumped down beside her, placing her head in her hands and staring down the floor, nervous tension building in her gut. Martha sighed theatrically.

"Shove over!" She prompted, pushing on Amy and Bill's shoulders. The two girls obliged and shifted apart, Martha plopping down between them with her phone in hand. "Here's hoping that we're all overreacting." She murmured, her finger pressing down on the call button. Jackie, much to their surprise, picked up on the first ring.

"Oh thank GOD I've been worried sick!" She exclaimed. "I haven't seen you all bloody day, starting to think you'd gotten kidnapped or some-"

"Jackie, this is Martha, Amy, and Bill. We haven't seen her." Martha cut in. "We thought that maybe she was with you?" She finished hopefully.

"Oh..." Jackie's voice trailed off. "No, sorry girls, I thought she was with you..." Amy groaned.

"That's just bloody great." She snapped. "So nobody knows where she is." Her head stayed down, her heart rate slowly speeding up.

 _Oh, get a grip!_

"Look, just-just call us if you see her, yeah? We're all a little worried over here." Bill admitted.

"Yeah, of course." There was silence on the line.

"When did you last see her?"

"I-This morning. She had just left on her usual routine, you know the drill. Coffee, then a walk through London to the tower." Bill frowned.

"So she's been gone for-"

"Six hours." Amy finished for her, eyes darkening. The feeling of dread was now gnawing at her stomach, clawing at her ribs and creeping up her throat. "She's been missing for six hours." Martha pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a shuddering breath.

"Okay. " Her eyes scanned the room nervously, her face a perfect representation of Amy's inner feelings, her brow creased with worry and her eyes showing her every thought. Worry speckled her brown irises. "So, call him. Call Pete!" There was a sigh on the other end.

"Yeah, he'll know. Swear to God, if something's happened to her..." Her voice trailed off. None of them needed to hear the tail-end of her threat, knowing exactly what Jackie was willing to do if her daughter was involved. Take Jimmy Stone, for instance.

"We'll take a walk down her normal route." Bill put in. "Ask around. Maybe someone's seen her."

"Yeah. You do that."

The phone clicked off, leaving the three of them in silence. Amy was the first to spring to her feet, tying the laces of her combat boots and making for the door.

"Let's go find her then."

* * *

Donna?"

There was a crash from the kitchen. Jack winced, mentally preparing himself for the very picture of disaster as he rounded the corner of their cramped flat.

"Wot?" He ducked under the low doorway.

"John with you?"

"Nah, you know how he is when I'm cooking." Donna stood at the counter, mixer in hand as she worked at her newest attempt of a meal. Splatters of what appeared to be dough coated her apron and her red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She appeared to be more than a little bit frustrated, her face slowly reddening to match her hair.

"Fair point." He leaned against the other side of their counter, pulling up a yellow barstool and beginning to idly drum his fingers against the blue-painted wood of the countertop. "How'd you get rid of him?" Donna chuckled.

"Spaceman? Told him to go find some brown eggs." Jack frowned.

"But there's no diff-"

"Exactly!" She cut him off, thrusting another cup of flour into the bowl. "Gets him outta my hair, and that's all that matters!" Jack nodded along with her. A sudden thought surfaced in his mind.

"When exactly was that?" He questioned. She froze, her gaze trailing over to the stove clock.

"Six hours ago, give or take." Jack's eyebrows shot up.

"Brown eggs much be hard to find this time of year." Donna only shrugged in response.

"He'll be back."

* * *

Mind-numbing pain ripped through him, his (now double) heartbeat pounding in his ears as he felt his ribs shift and crack. It felt like his whole body was being punctured by daggers from inside, trying to pierce his flesh, but being stopped and forced to tear him in half. He writhed on the table, hot tears pouring down his cheeks.

He bit his lip and took a sharp breath. Spots danced across his vision, an ugly yellow in color, flecked with dark purple. He wanted so badly to scream until his throat was raw, just let out all the pain in a noise of sheer agony. It would be so easy to let the inhuman screech rip from his throat, to just-

"John?" And then he remembered why he was holding it in. Rose's voice sounded so broken coming through the grate by his ear.

"What?" He tried not to slur his words.

 _Just fall asleep._

Coaxed a voice in the back of his head.

 _Let yourself slip away._

 _What are you even fighting for?_

A sigh came through the vent.

"Just making sure you're still awake."

"Barely." He managed to force out, his lips nearly unresponsive. His body was shutting down. "Keep me talking." Choked sobs reached him. Fury sparked behind his eyes.

"Right," She took a few shaking breaths. "Right, I can do that." Cold sweat dripped down his back.

"Brilliant." He rasped.

"Favorite film?"

"Lion King." A small laugh reached him as his hearts began to collapse his lungs. He could feel all the air rushing out of him, his body screaming at him to get his ass off of that thrice-damned table.

"Favorite color?" He opened his mouth to respond, a pained moan coming out instead.

"John?" There was no mistaking the panic in her words.

"Thinking." He reassured her. "You know those old police boxes?"

"Yeah."

"Police-box blue."

"Oddly specific." He tried to laugh, his throat closing into a tight knot and letting out only a wheeze of sound. "What about friends?" She asked.

"Jack. Donna." He gasped for air. "Roommates. Donna's family adopted me. Jack flirts with anything that moves."

"Any family?" He stayed silent, though not for any real reason. It's not like staying in denial would change anything.

"Dead. All of them. Just like I'll be soon." He didn't mean for her to hear the last part but apparently, the drug had interfered with more than just his bloody body. "I only survived because I didn't want to talk to them. It was a family reunion. I didn't want to attend. Went walking in the woods at night. Smelled smoke. Thought nothing of it. I went back and they were gone, just like that."

"John... It's not your fault."

"It is." He moaned, biting back another cry. "You want to know why they didn't survive?" There was silence from her end of the vent. He swallowed hard. "Because nobody called it in until it was too late. It was at some old barn, and nobody noticed it." More tears escaped his eyes, but he couldn't stop. "I could have saved them, and now I'm going to die, the family name with me."

"You're not going to die in here! Hear me? You're no-"

 **SLAM.**

He heard Rose let out a strangled squeak and heard something in the other room start to shift.

"Hello there, Miss Tyler." A voice purred.

"What the hell do you want?!" She spat, trying her best to sound intimidating. John could still hear the fear in her voice. "And why are you hurting him!"

"So, you admit you care about him?" It responded coldly.

"I'm not admitting anything."

"Right." Footsteps paced over to the vent and he could hear their captor's breathing. He wanted nothing more than to make it stop. "Now, you get another chance. John is saveable right now." Another sickening snap and squelch of muscle resonated from his chest. He swallowed a scream.

"What do you want me to do?!"

"Tell us what you know about the disasters at Torchwood." John couldn't hold back a small whimper, inwardly cursing himself.

"I know that I-" Her voice broke. "I let it happen. It was so wrong." She took a deep breath. John's anger flared again.

How _dare_ that bastard make Rose cry.

"An' they were experimenting on people. Trying to get them to mutate in new ways, make a superhuman, like from the comics."

"Go on."

"They-" She started crying again. "They all went wrong. And they had to be dealt with. We couldn't just let them out. They were screaming as horrible things happened, and I just watched! Like a fool!"

"Did you now." John felt another jolt from his chest and cried out. "Tell me, did they sound like him?"

"We destroyed all the serum." She didn't sound too sure of herself. John's hearts sank.

"I beg to differ. And, it seems we have ourselves a test subject."

"No! I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt him!"

"Don't hurt him!" The voice mimicked. "Pathetic." Something metal clinked in the room, though not in hers. John's spotted gaze snapped to the heavyset door, the light temporarily blinding him.

"I mean it!" She snarled.

"Then tell us how to make the serum." That shut her up. "Lost your tongue?"

"There's a reason we had to stop the experiments. They went insane. They were in pain, lasing out with their powers. It wasn't safe."

"Tell us how, or we continue on him." A dark shape shifted by his right, the sound of someone breathing suddenly filling his ears.

"I. Don't. KNOW!" She roared. A needle shifted into focus. His chest felt like it was going to burst.

"Yes. You. DO!" It shot back. A blue liquid dripped from the wickedly sharp point, splashing between his eyes. He squeezed them shut tight.

"I don't know! You're torturing him! Make it stop!" Her voice faded to a whimper. "Please." John let himself hope that they'd believe her, just for a second. Just enough to let him go.

"Inject him."

And then, everything was cold.

* * *

Her captor didn't even react when she curled into a ball, his black-clad feet disappearing from her line of sight entirely. She swiped furiously at her eyes, but the tears wouldn't stop coming. She could hear him whimpering again.

She knew the whimpers would stop soon.

Maybe give way to pained moaning.

But it would stop when he closed his eyes.

He would fall asleep.

And he would be dead by morning.

She cried long and hard, just listening to his ragged breathing. She hardly realized what she was doing until the words began to pull themselves from her throat.

Singing.

The words kept coming, melodies and phrases passing her lips.

"Wake me up when September ends." She choked out, her voice wavering, hardly forming a tune. She didn't care.

She couldn't bring herself to care.

He was dead.

Her wonderful, funny, kind friend lay dead in the room next to her.

And it was all her fault.


	4. Chapter 4

**Back again with another chapter of this... Interesting story. Just going to give a swear warning up here so it doesn't creep up on anyone when Rose decides to cuss. This chapter is the longest one by far, which is pretty darn incredible. Thank you all so much for the kind words and suggestions in the reviews collum, it means a lot to me to know that you enjoy this.**

 **Believe me when I say that it gets worse before it gets better.**

 **If you want something fluffy to read, you should really, really rethink your reading choice. For those of you still here, good luck.**

* * *

The cold air burned his lungs, freezing up the back of his throat and causing his breath to cloud up the air, making him feel like a dragon. He grinned at the thought, his boots crunching in the leaves below him.

His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his long brown coat, a scarf of a near-impossible length wrapped several times around his neck. He could hear the faint sound of music resonating from the Gallifrey barn and ducked his head.

He let his feet carry him without any real destination in mind, it wasn't like it mattered anyway. Branches snapped under his weight as he walked. The moon was a silver slit in the sky, stars scattered around it in a beautiful array of light.

 _You could see them so much better here than in the city._

He tugged at the ends of his scarf, digging into his pocket for a candy he had nicked from the cupboard. He chewed thoughtfully on the head of the jelly-baby, a soft smile gracing his lips.

 _So much better._

He really knew he should be back at the barn. It wasn't like he didn't want to be there. He just didn't fit, like a puzzle piece that had been stepped on one too many times, the imagery on the top peeling off to reveal the plain cardboard beneath. It just looked out of place.

Just like him.

He chomped on another sweet, his feet carrying him deeper into the woods. The scent of smoke lingered in the air. Starlight filtered through the trees.

Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, he was climbing one of the gnarled oak trees that surrounded him, hurtling upward at a pace that surprised even him.

He didn't stop until his body was sprawled among the branches, his feet dangling below him. He smiled up at the stars, trying to ignore the scent of smoke that seemed to have followed him from the barn.

He could see the smoke too, drifting in lazy coils through the sky to obscure the moon above. He frowned, his brow creasing. Smoke, as far as he knew, wasn't something that usually occurred in the woods at night. He stood on his branch and tried to find where it was coming from, his dark eyes following the cloudy trail, looking in vain for a flicker of flame in the woods.

His heart rate increased heavily and he scampered up a few more feet, the branches now bending dangerously under his weight. He didn't care. Bile rose in his throat.

 _No, oh please oh please-_

He could see the crackle of the flames now, red hues twisting through the dry leaves. The fire wasn't what made a whimper rise in his throat. Rather, what was burning. Who was burning.

He sprang from the branch and began to tear through the underbrush, not caring about the branches that raked thin lines into his arms, the sickening thud of his own heartbeat echoing in his skull. His lungs seemed to be shriveling up as the cold sank its razor sharp fangs into his unprotected skin.

He had never run so fast in all his life and he doubted he ever would again. He raced down the winding path leading to the barn, his sneakers sliding around on the loose gravel that made up the front walkway.

His shoulders heaved, his throat burning.

His throat, however, wasn't the only thing to burn that night, and he watched in horror as the barn began to cave in on itself, hungry tongues of flame eagerly devouring the structure as if it were made of matches. The supports gave one last shuddering wheeze before fully giving out, cinders and ash beginning to stick in John's messy hair.

He couldn't be bothered to even try and do something.

He sank to his knees as tears trailed down his cheeks, his throat closing into a tight knot as more flames lit the woods. Even though his world was burning, he was still cold inside, still in denial that everyone was dead.

They couldn't be.

But as time passed, as the fire department wrapped him in a shock blanket, as the blaze was finally extinguished, as the last shred of hope was torn from his hands, he knew.

Oh, he knew that they were gone.

But knowing isn't always the best thing, is it?

He didn't get any sleep that night, or the night after, just staring at the ceiling with his eyes wide open, thinking about all of the people that he'd never see again. Thinking of Brax, his older brother. Of cousin Harold and his dreams of being the prime minister. Hell, even of Susan and her bright smile and cheery laugh, her willingness to learn and her love of school.

When he finally did close his eyes, all he could hear were their screams and the splitting of wood. All he could see were their mangled corpses, burning and blazing, their faces portraying every bit of the agony they had died in.

He was diagnosed as an insomniac at sixteen.

He really wasn't too surprised.

Sleep evaded him, and even when he did manage to drift off, it would only be for a few minutes at best before he started awake, coated in a cold sweat from head to toe and shaking like he had that night.

* * *

"I still see them, when I close my eyes," John admitted to his adopted siblings, laying flat on his back on his bed, the mattress sagging dangerously under his weight. Jack and Donna exchanged worried glances but didn't speak.

John began to tap idly at his thigh. "It's gotten worse again. It's this damned season, that's what it is." Donna gripped his other hand a little tighter in reassurance.

"It's over. The past is the past." Jack nodded his agreement, shuffling closer and causing the mattress to give a loud creak.

"Yeah, John." He nudged his brother on the shoulder. "And besides, you've got us." John sighed.

"I know. I love you both, really, it's just-" He hesitated. "I just wish I'd been able to do something other than watch."

"But then you'd've died too." Donna pointed out. "We'd never have met you."

"Maybe it would've been better that way." He remarked dryly. "Never would've had to deal with me crowding up your house, or my wanders at three in the morning."

"Ah, we love you though, big guy," Jack reassured him.

"Obviously." Donna agreed. "Why dy'a think we kept you around for this long?"

And then, the room was spinning, blurring around the edges like a watercolor painting in the rain and merging into something else. John, oddly enough, wasn't afraid.

He watched the ceiling of his childhood bedroom with glow in the dark stars scattered across it merge into a disgusting shade of gray. Cold steel met his way where Donna's hand had previously rested, a slew of memories invading the cozy confines of his head.

That's when the sound of someone singing reached him.

 _Rose_ singing.

Of course, singing was a loose term as she was sobbing in between verses, her voice wavering and cutting out completely for some words, but still choking out the general melody. It sounded fuzzy, like she was singing through a veil.

The room seemed to pitch and spin around him. He squeezed his eyes shut, his body feeling like a million needles were piercing his flesh, but not deep enough to draw blood. She wasn't singing anymore, just crying softly, the vent by his ear amplifying the sound and causing it to ring in his head.

"This is all my damn fault." He wanted to reassure her, but his mouth didn't want to open. His eyes opened once more in an uncertain fashion. Now that he addressed it, none of his muscles were in fact, working, save for the unnatural, four-pulses droning on inside of him, he couldn't feel anything moving at all.

He tried to take a deep breath but was struck with another horrifying realization.

He couldn't.

His lungs weren't working. He couldn't even swallow, forced to do nothing but listen to her trying to talk to him. "I wish you'd gotten proper last words." She mumbled. "Something all heroic-like." Her voice broke. "An' I'm jus' sittin' here singin' while you're dead."

He tried to breathe again, his body still completely motionless. He wanted to scream. He wished he could. Instead, he sat in silence and listened to her verbally abuse herself, fighting the cold feeling setting into his bones that made him want to close his eyes once more. "I can't stop cryin' like a dolt..." She moaned.

He began shaking.

It took him a few seconds to realize what that meant.

Shaking meant he could move.

His lungs were screaming at him for air at that point, so he finally caved. He panted like a dog on the table, his hearts pounding in an erratic pattern. If she heard him, she didn't show it. Her pained sobs made him want to reach out to her and tell her everything was going to be okay, no matter how much of a lie that would be.

He'd do it for her.

He forced the searing pain into a far corner of his mind, trying to compose himself. Everything burned like fire, his whole body tingling like he had been electrocuted. For all he knew, he had been.

His muscles were so taught, he thought they would snap under the restraints. Just collapse in on themselves in a fleshy, tangled mess.

"Save your tears for when someone important dies." He wheezed. Rose gasped.

"You're-" She broke down, just sobbing in relief. He nearly did the same.

"I'm here." He managed. "I'm so, so sorry I scared you."

"Stop apologizing!" She managed to cry out. "Please." She added in a whimper. "It's my fault no matter what you say."

"Don't be like that." His sentence sounded forced, the sheer pain ripping through him making it near impossible to communicate in anything other than a series of yelps.

"Could you just listen?!" Her throat sounded like it was tied in a knot. "I need to tell you this." He didn't answer, so she continued. "I didn't want to work for them, but my Father owned the company. They pretty much hid everything from him, said the experiments were 'safe'." She laughed humorlessly. "They only told me because they needed me to cooperate and give them the security codes." He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweat dripping down his back.

"Rose-"

"John, please, just let me talk." He let his eyes fall closed, his hands tightening on the chains holding him to the table. He wished he could rip through them and hug her, let her cry into his shoulder while he tried to calm her down.

"Okay." He agreed.

"Right." He could hear the noise of the fan amplify in the background, her voice with it. "I was assigned to a little girl, Cal, we called her. Cal..." She had to take a few deep breaths before continuing to speak. The sound of fabric being rubbed against something echoed in his ears.

 _Probably holding my jacket._

"She was brilliant, brilliant kid. Loved school and reading. She was lonely though. I loved her dearly." He had to stop himself from asking what happened.

 _Letting her talk._

"She was going to be telekinetic, you know, like Matilda from the story. She was so excited." Another sob ripped from her throat. His limbs felt like they were being pulled at and pinched by a thousand tiny hands. "She didn't survive the first dosage. She was jus' screamin' an' tryin' to get at me, but I couldn't-" She collapsed into sobs again. "I couldn't get to her. They held me back and I had to watch as they ended her life. They told me she'd be okay."

She couldn't continue, her muffled sobs seeping through the barrier between them.

"Rose," He rasped. She didn't interrupt this time, her sobs receding into light sniffles. "It's not your fault they've got bits and pieces of the serum, yeah?"

"Yeah." He tried his best to sound reassuring.

"You don't have to beat yourself up over this." He wished he could stop himself from silently blaming her for everything. His eyes drifted open. "Hold on."

"What?" She sounded worried, and to be honest, so was he.

"The room was dark about thirty seconds ago." He blinked once, watching the now-fully-lit ceiling swim in and out of focus. Everything looked sharper, clearer, like his eyes were a camera and someone had just figured out how to get them to focus properly.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything is-" He bit his lip in thought. "Cleaner." He settled with. "Maybe they fixed the overhead light." He heard her shift her weight nervously. "You alright?" He asked, hesitantly.

"I'm fine, but you-" His jacket rustled again. "You won't be. Not if what I think is happening is actually happening." He furrowed his brow.

"What?" He tried not to let his worry bleed through his words. "Rose, whatever's happening, you can tell me."

"Everyone who survived the initial dosage said similar things before-" Her voice broke. She didn't need to finish the sentence though. John already knew what she was going to say.

"Before they died." He finished for her.

"I'm so sorry." His fingers tingled under the restraints but ceased their burning. It felt almost like stepping into a warm bath after being out in the cold.

 _Autumn._

 _Damn that season._

"What else did they experience?" He didn't want to know, not really, but something told him that he'd find out soon enough. She stayed quiet. "Rose, c'mon." He prompted.

"Burning sensation that ebbed into a light prickling." She said it without a speck of emotion.

"Check." He growled.

"Heightened hearing." Again, devoid of her usual tone.

"Also check." She let out a shuddering sob.

"Um, right, shit," She shifted from side to side. "Basically, your senses should be through the roof." He grit his teeth against another jolt of pain.

"Seems accurate." Silence descended in thick layers, the sheer hopelessness of the situation dawning on them both at the same time. "I had a good run." He admitted.

"Don't say things like that." He sighed in an exasperated manner.

"What am I supposed to say, Rose? That I'm dying alone save for you because some idiots thought they could improve humanity?" He hardly realized what he was saying, his ears beginning to ring.

His voice came out in a sickening snarl. "That I never did manage to live my life to the fullest, but hey, at least I'm going to die before any further mutation? Or, I know, that everything's gone to shit and I'm stuck here watching?" She was crying again, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Self-disgust welled in his chest.

"John, stop." She pleaded.

"Why? It's not like you care." He spat, the words acid on his tongue. "You're not the one dying on an operating table!"

"No. 'M not." She wasn't crying anymore. "Because they need me alive."

"Not everyone is so lucky." He remarked dryly. He couldn't even bring himself to apologize. He could hear her shaking breaths and idly wondered how much longer he'd hear anything for. If she was right, he'd be dead soon enough.

Even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn't hold back one thought.

Maybe his death wasn't such a bad thing.

* * *

She buried her tearstained face in his jacket and tried to block out the small gasps and groans coming from his side of the wall.

 _Bloody liar._

 _You said you were fine._

He clearly wasn't fine, and she knew, oh, she knew he wouldn't be able to cling to what little life he had for much longer. She hugged his coat closer to her chest as his breathing became heavier.

The room seemed to be closing in on her, the stupid cream walls leering down at her with the air of someone who already has exactly what they're after. She wondered if he knew just how much his words had stung.

She wondered if he knew she was crying.

"John?" She tried. He didn't respond, but she knew he was listening. "I'm sorry that I-"

"Apologize one more time, I dare you." She swallowed hard.

"Right." She croaked. "Just checking to make sure you're still alive." His angry demeanor shifted in a snap.

"Still here." He affirmed. "I'm still with you." She wished he was in the room with her, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him.

"So, you're strapped down?" It was a lame attempt at a conversation and she knew it."Chained, more like. You?"

"Small room. No chains." He blew out a sharp breath from his nose. "John?"

"I'm fine." He growled. She didn't question him. She knew that he was as far from fine as a person can be. She knew that every part of his being would be on fire in a matter of minutes.

"No, you're not." She stated flatly, fighting not to let her voice break. "You're really, really not."

"I really, really am." He insisted, his voice breaking midway through the sentence. She rolled her eyes.

"Liar."

"Would you rather I actually told you how I-" He hesitated. "It's raining outside." She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on noises other than the soft hum of the lights and John's ragged breathing.

"How can you-"

"Heightened hearing." He answered curtly. She wanted to slap herself.

 _You dolt, of course he can hear the rain._

"Is anyone outside?" The overhead light flickered before blinking out. "Shit."

"What?" She huddled closer to his jacket with a shiver. The room was near pitch-black now. She wanted to disappear.

"My light just went out." She whimpered. "That's all." She was trembling again, shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm, trying desperately to hold onto anything but ultimately being swept away in the roar of the wind.

"Hey, you'll be okay, okay?" Her hands shook against the still-damp fabric of his coat.

"Okay." She choked out.

"Okay..." She heard a snap from his end and the rattling of chains, growls tearing from his mouth. "They're-" He gasped, the chains crashing against his table. "They're coming." She could hear the fear in his words.

"For me or you?" He didn't answer. The sound of another voice coming through the vent answered for him. Two voices, as a matter of fact. She pulled the tawny coat over her head and pulled at her hair.

"Well, how are we feeling, John?" The other man drew out his name, making it sound almost like he was purring. "Bit tipsy, hmm?"

"Could be better." He snarled.

"Oh, that's no way to talk to your superiors." Clucked another voice disapprovingly. "In fact, you shouldn't be talking back to us at all, Mr. Smith."

"What've you done to me?" He rasped. Rose could hear her blood hammering in her ears. Her whole frame was shaking now, her heart pummeling her ribs.

"Haven't you gotten it through your thick skull? You're a test subject."

"Not willingly." He mumbled, the words slurring together. A crash that sounded sickeningly like bones being snapped sounded. John cried out in shock. Rose wanted to disappear. "What the hell?" He spluttered weakly.

His captor didn't respond directly, or at least, not in the way that Rose expected.

"Open your mouth." He snapped. There was silence for a few seconds before- "That's just not right."

"What?" John's voice shot up an octave. "What is it?"

"Looks like a vampire." The other voice mused. Rose's stomach dropped. There was no bloody way they'd gotten their hands on that serum. Her throat closed into a knot. There was another sickening snap accompanied by another yelp from John.

"Get a blood sample. We need to know what's happened to him."

"What do you mean!?" She knew John was pushing his luck, but she also knew she couldn't stop him. "What've you done to me?"

"Just knock him out." There was another crash and then-

"Tell me what you've done, damn it!" He roared. There was the sound of wind being knocked out of his lungs, but somehow, he kept going. "What did you turn me into?!" There were a few more dry thuds along with John's ragged breathing, but he still managed to hold on.

Rose was crying again, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"FINE!" The voice snapped. Everything in the room stopped saved for John's gasping breaths. "You, John Smith, are no longer a human."

"Congratulations." The other voice remarked dryly, sarcastic clapping echoing through the vent.

"W-What?" He stammered.

"Check your teeth, check your hands, check your senses for God's sake!" Once more, silence. John gasped.

"Fangs." Sobbing started to come through the connecting vent. "I've got bloody fangs!"

"Yes, we are aware of that." It replied coolly.

"A- God, oh friggin' God I've got-" His voice cracked.

"Knock him out!" The other man's voice was shrill. "God, he's making me sick! Just look at 'im!"

"I'm trying!" There was more shuffling. A growl ripped from the other room. Rose hugged herself tightly. Whatever was growling, it wasn't John.

Not anymore.

Whoever John had been was gone.

Whatever he was now, it wasn't human.

And it whatever he was now was dangerous.

"Look at his eyes!" One of the men cried. The other one didn't respond, though judging by the sounds reaching her ears, he was trying to hold John down.

She huddled up to his jacket and cried, listening to the animalistic roars and snarls from the other room, useless to do anything but listen. Listen as he became a monster. Listen as everything that made him a human was ripped away, replaced with something that wouldn't hesitate to kill anything in its path.

His pleas weren't words anymore, just inhuman cries that slurred together into a rasping howl.

"What the hell did you do to him!"

"It was supposed to put him under!"

"Yeah, well you just made it worse!" Spluttered one of the voices.

They didn't even know the half of it. They probably had thought that they were playing with materials that would kill him in the end, not turn him into whatever the hell was in the next room.

He whimpered again, his breath hissing through his teeth.

Suddenly, the walls felt so much thinner.


End file.
